


Walk This Wade

by bamkam



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: /but/ this was actually the original fic idea, Gen, M/M, and i couldn't help but write it, crack!fic, don't look at me like that i know i already wrote this concept, i don't know what else to tell you about this, other than no disrespect to sex workers, short!fic, writing hawkpool with an angry kate was just a beautiful bonus for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5972965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamkam/pseuds/bamkam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate and Clint may not have been willing to wear the tight, spandex dress for the mission, but Wade was all over it.<br/>Clint just didn't know how strongly he would react to the sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk This Wade

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere on tumblr, there's a story idea that I based this fic off of, but I can no longer find it. If someone has the link, I will gladly post it here!

“ _No_.”

Kate leaves no room for argument, and even twirls away from the conversation to count her arrows. Loudly. Hoping it’ll shut up the idiots she’s surrounded by.

“Kate,” Clint pleads. “We need someone to be the… _street hustler_ or we can’t get to the mark!”

“Changing the name doesn’t make it any better!” Kate says, just the slightest bit hysterical. How is this even a conversation she’s having—with _Clint Barton_ of all people?! “And why does it have to be me!”

Clint falters. “Because you’re the only girl—”

“—oh _hell_ no—”

“ _and_ because you’re the best at disguises?” His sentence ends in a squeak; Kate looks dangerously close to putting an arrow through his eye, and he puts his hands up to shield his face. Just in case.

“I could wear it,” Wade suggests, raising a hand. Both Hawkeyes ignore him.

“So because I’m the girl, I have to be the sex worker?!”

“No, no, I’m saying that you’re the best fit because you’re always so unrecognizable in your disguises! They’ll never suspect you!”

Behind the two, Wade starts waving his arm, jumping up and down.

“Oh, don’t try to _sweet talk_ me, you tramp!” Kate sarcastically says. “I have expectations for where I need my dress to end, and that’s below my butt!”

“Kate, you have hip cut-outs in your costume.”

Kate actually does throw an arrow at him. The point harmlessly hits Clint in the cheek, directly in-between two of his fingers.

“Excuse you! Those are _tasteful_ cut-outs!”

“The dress is really cute, and I love wearing dresses—”

“Kaaaate!” Clint’s begging. This has been what he’s reduced to. “ _Please_!”

“Oh my God— _fine_!” Kate throws her hands up, and then savagely points a finger at Clint, who guards his face again. “But just so I can prove you wrong!”

She rips the spandex dress from Clint’s fingers and stomps into the hotel bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Wade slumps onto the bed, dejected. “Aw, _man_ , that would’ve been a hot outfit on me.”

“Shut up, Deadpool.”

Kate returns just as angrily, throwing the door open and trudging into view. The dress isn’t bad, in fact it looks incredible on her; the bright red makes her complexion pop, and it hugs her in ways that shows off her trim figure. But there’s more skin on display than Clint’s ever seen, and _never_ wanted to ever see.

He promptly screams.

“Oh God! We dressed a baby as a hooker! We’re all going to hell!”

“ _See_! I told you this was a terrible idea!”

“Take that off!” Clint yells, covering his eyes. He falls onto the bed to shield himself from the image of his protégée dressed like _that_.

“I think you look adorable.” Wade says, beaming at Kate through his mask.

“Shut _up_ , Wilson!” Clint groans, voice muffled from the bed. He sneaks another glance, and groans again. “You look like you belong on Toddlers and Tiaras! Take! It! Off!”

“ _Gladly_ ,” Kate seethes, and turns to change back into her costume.

Wade claps a hand on Clint’s back. “Well, jeez, Barton. That just makes it weird for me as a dad.”

Clint looks up at him, glares, and tosses his head back into the comforter. He signs something at Wade that makes him gasp.

“You _dog_ —”

“Anyway!” Kate’s returned. She holds the offending garment out in front of her, as if it’s going to bite. “Now what?”

“Holy shit, just give it here!” Wade shoots off the bed, yanks the dress out of Kate’s surprised hands, and goes off to change.

Clint raises himself off the bed, and his mouth falls open while he watches Wade walk into the bathroom. He looks helplessly at Kate. “This is never going to work.”

Kate just shrugs at him in a ‘whadda-gonna-do’ gesture. Clint figures that’s probably because she’s glad she doesn’t have to wear the dress anymore.

Just then, the bathroom door clicks open and out struts Wade, scars on full display. The dress just barely covers him, stretching invitingly across his muscles and molding to him like a second skin. When he raises his arms to pose, the hem of the dress hitches up his thighs, inadvertently showing off that he’s at least not wearing boxers underneath.

Clint distantly wonders what he _is_ wearing, and wouldn’t mind trying to find out.

He then squashes that traitorous thought back down, and sets fire to it.

“Well, you definitely have the attitude, Wade.” Kate says, reaching over to affix a blonde wig to his head. Wade positively preens at the compliment, and blows kisses at the female archer.

“Why, _thank you_ , sugar!”

Kate grins and turns to Clint. “I think this will work!”

Clint finds that his mouth has gone dry. If he looks down at Wade’s crotch one more time—where there’s a clear imprint in the tight dress—Clint might shoot himself with his own arrow.

He just nods mutely.

 

Surprisingly, Wade is an absolute _hit_.

He works the room like he owns it, simpering at all the right times and goading potential “customers” on with seductive moves. The rest of the time, he dances, up front and center to where everyone can see him, his moves so dirty it borders on obscene.

Clint feels so conflicted; in part because he feels like a terrible mentor/father figure/whatever because Kate is screaming wildly, cheering Wade on. In other part, because he can’t stop staring, trying to will away the tingling in-between his thighs.

He has to bite his tongue from letting anything slip—like a moan, for starters—totally fine with letting Wade do what needs to be done to get to the target. But when someone trails a hand too close to Wade’s barely-clothed crotch, Clint’s body flushes with a coursing hot emotion that he _doesn’t want to talk about_ , and he snarls into his earpiece, “focus on the fucking mission, Wade.”

“Gotcha, killer!” Wade sings back, and scampers off. Clint tries to not stare at the merc’s ass in that ridiculous, delicious dress, and fails. Horribly.

His eyes then widen, as if it’s just now dawning on him, and he clunks his head against the bar counter.

“Ohh, _fuck_!”


End file.
